Location: Undergound walking towards the
Jubilee line in Waterloo Tube station.
Cane in hand, glasses on, I aim for the
travellator: a wonderful invention that speeds up your commute by providing a flat,
moving floor. They’re quite large and not very difficult to see in a lit room,
especially when wearing prescription glasses. I’m about to step onto this
wonderful contraption (thinking about how grateful I am for it to be located in
this extremely long tunnel when I’m running really quite late) when a pair of
large hands grab my shoulders and pull me back and to the side.
A scream escapes me as I tense, suddenly in
full-on fight or flight mode. The hands turn me to face my attacker…
…who announces, very loudly and
sloooowwwwly: “You… were about to walk… onto a travelator… It moves… and you
were going to trip over….”
I shake him off, looking him dead in the eye that I could see. “That’s what I was aiming for!”
The man looks confused. “But… I thought you couldn’t see anything.”
“I’m wearing glasses! Obviously, I can see something!” I didn't feel the need to also point out that the type of cane I use doesn't even touch the floor, which would imply I have some sense of what is in front of me. I couldn't expect him to know all the types of canes and their uses.
Of course in this situation you could probably criticise me for being angry at the man that genuinely thought he saved my life; but in my defence, I thought I was being mugged.
He really could have said “excuse me” first.
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